


Need to Talk

by TheGreatElisaMousy



Series: Chaos in College [13]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Explanations, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Mentions of self-harm, The Host is NOT the Author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatElisaMousy/pseuds/TheGreatElisaMousy
Summary: Darkiplier and the Host have a long overdue conversation.
Series: Chaos in College [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570645
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Need to Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doctor_Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/gifts).



> This conversation has been a long time coming. (Also, for details on the Author's slow descent into madness, read [Metamorphosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17811569/chapters/42023540))

The Host was curled up on the couch, book in his lap, narrations slowly guiding him through Dylan Thomas's _Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night_. It was a slow process, and while he often preferred to have the poems read to him—there were no Braille versions of the books, he'd _checked_ —everyone else was busy. Some were meeting with group projects, others were in the Dining Hall, and the Host knew for a fact that Bim was tailing his next meal.

The only person still in the townhouse—or rather, on the porch—was Dark. But the Host knew that wasn't an option.

He sighed, sliding his bookmark into place. His focus was gone, and it was precarious enough as it was when it came to reading, _without_ any added distractions. But he knew that Dark was still suspicious of him. He still thought that the Host was the Author, to some degree, at least. He hadn't fully separated the two, and unless the Host did something about it, he never would.

He set the book down and went outside, standing next to the open seat beside Dark. "May the Host join Darkiplier?" He was met with a noncommittal grunt, but it wasn't a no, so the Host sat. "There's something the Host needs to talk to Darkiplier about." The demon didn't seem very interested. "It's about the Author."

_That_ got his attention.

"Oh, really?" Dark asked, crossing his arms, adjusting himself in his seat slightly to face the Host. It couldn't have been comfortable, especially with Dark's pain, but apparently posturing was more important at the moment.

"Yes, really," he replied. "The Host is _not_ the Author," he began. Before Dark could say anything, he added, "He knows, he knows, he's said this several times before. But now..." He took in a shaky breath. He did not like what was coming next. "The Host will tell Darkiplier exactly what happened. How the Author became the Host."

Dark simply raised a brow, and the Host took that as an invitation to continue.

"As Darkiplier knows, the Author was only living in the manor for a short month, but does he remember the day he kicked the Author out?"

"Of course," he told him. "I told you to grab your things and that you weren't welcome. You threw a fit and smashed a mirror."

The Host tried to hold back the hurt at being referred to as the same as the Author. Hopefully, the rest of this conversation would change that mindset. "Darkiplier's actions weren't what caused the 'fit'. The Author saw someone in the mirror that terrified him. He was desperate to make the image go away, so he smashed the mirror. When he left to his cabin, the image of the man followed him, and he slowly went more and more insane." He had to pause to take a few breaths. Even just talking about the event was bringing back the memories of that sheer terror that wasn't even the Host's. But he remembered everything the Author did, said, and felt, meaning he was left to live with those memories to torment him day and night. "Does Darkiplier know what happened to the Host's eyes?"

"I don't," he replied. "And frankly, I don't really—"

"The Author tore them out."

That shut the demon up.

"It was a few weeks after he left the manor," he continued. "He kept seeing the man in every reflective surface. He couldn't get away from him, and as he was slowly losing his mind, and then the man appeared in person. He wasn't really there, but the Author saw him in the room with him. All he wanted to do was make the image of the man go away, to stop seeing him, so..."

"So he ripped his own eyes out."

"Brutally," the Host confirmed, and against his will, his hands started rubbing at his coat, trying to get rid of the wet, sticky, slimy feeling he _knew_ wasn't really there. Regardless, he could still feel the warm liquid, the messy remains of a pair of golden eyes sitting in his hands. "His hemophilia would have killed him if Dr. Iplier hadn't shown up."

"What was Dr. Iplier doing at your cabin in the middle of nowhere?" Dark asked suspiciously.

The Host took a few breaths, trying to bring himself down from the panic attack before it started. "The Host still isn't entirely sure. But Dr. Iplier brought the Author to his family's clinic, patched him up, and would barely leave his side. The... The process of changing from the Author to the Host was not a quick one." His hands began to shake again, and he stuffed them in his pockets to hide it. He knew Dark saw, regardless, but he pressed on. The only way for him to believe the Host, the only way to make him _understand_ , was to tell him everything. "He was in a very, very bad place..." His voice grew quiet. "He wouldn't eat, he wanted to die... which frankly would've been easy if Dr. Iplier hadn't always found the wound within seconds."

"You tried to kill yourself." It wasn't a question.

The Host gave a nod anyway. "Yes. The Host may not be the Author, but he has every memory of the Author's. He knows everything the Author has done, and he feels guilty for it every single day." He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, sharing something he hadn't even told Dr. Iplier yet. "The Host is... quite honestly afraid that the Author isn't really gone, though. That one day, he'll reemerge and take the life the Host has built from him." He didn't even bother trying to hide the fear in his tone. He was being entirely honest, there were days he was terrified that the Author would just come back, that he would shove the Host aside, either destroy him or worse, make him _watch_ as he destroyed everything the Host ever loved.

Dark was just looking at him now, almost analyzing him. A few times, he looked like he was going to say something, but each time, he kept quiet.

The Host continued. "The Host is sure Darkiplier is frustrated that his threats don't seem to work on the Host. But just... imagine that something happened that caused Darkiplier's consciousness to be pushed back by something." The demon stiffened for a moment, and his eyes flashed, one red, one blue for a second. The Host chose not to comment. "Now imagine the possibility that whatever took Darkiplier over might hurt Wilford. The Host lives with that thought _every day_. That is why the Host isn't afraid of Darkiplier. Because no threat he can make will ever compare to the terror the Host feels of losing everything."

"You're afraid that if the Author came back, he'd hurt Dr. Iplier?"

The Host felt his face grow warm and he ducked his head. He knew _exactly_ what Dark was getting at. "Yes," he said quietly. His hands clenched into fists. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Iplier would be very proud that the conversation hadn't ended with the Host's fingers dug deep into his sockets. Then again, it wasn't over just yet. He cleared his throat, deviating away from the topic of Dr. Iplier. He wasn't ready to address those feelings properly, anywhere _near_ ready, for a multitude of reasons, the primary one being that he didn't _deserve_ it. He would never deserve it, no matter what he did, or what anyone said. "As the Host said, he lives with the guilt of what the Author has done. He knows there's nothing he can do to make up for what he did to the Jims. But hates himself for it, even if _he_ wasn't actually the one who did it."

Dark seemed to ponder this for a moment before studying him closely. "Get on your knees, on the ground," he finally said.

"Wh-What?"

"You heard me. On your knees, on the ground. _Now_."

The Host, flabbergasted, complied.

"Now beg."

The Host looked up at him in surprise. Dark looked completely serious, waiting, expectant. He swallowed his pride, ducked his head, and said, "Please believe the Host... He's begging Darkiplier... he is not the Author. He has not been for some time, and would _never_ do any of the things the Author has done."

There was a moment of dead silence between the two of them before Dark nodded, seeming satisfied. "Get up," he said, but it sounded much less like an order this time. The Host did so, returning to his seat. The look on his face must have said it all, because the demon explained, "Even if he was putting up some elaborate act, the Author would never have swallowed his pride. He would have rather exposed himself than beg." Much of the tension drained from the Host's body and he could feel his shoulders physically sag. Dark _believed_ him. He might not completely _trust_ him yet, but he knew now that the Host wasn't the Author.

It was at that moment when Dark flashed him a teasing, almost predatory grin. "So about Dr. Iplier..."

The Host abruptly stood, feeling his face grow warm again, turning back to the townhouse. "The Host should get back to his homework," he said, retreating back inside. Dark's laughter followed him.

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly initially gonna write two version of this (this one, and one from Dark's point of view), but I enjoyed this one a little too much. Like, the Host was trying to hard to keep it together, and I feel like we should all be really proud of him. And I think my favorite part of this might have been Dark forcing the Host to beg, because I feel like he's absolutely right. It was the ultimate test, the Author would have _never_ stooped so low. He might have found some sneaky way around it, but _actually_ getting on his knees and begging? No siree, not the Author.
> 
> I also really enjoy the teasing here at the end because Dark would. He _absolutely_ would.


End file.
